


Eyes Wide Shut

by hellowkatey



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [19]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Author Is Sleep Deprived, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mentioned Qui-Gon Jinn, Mentioned Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Post-Zigoola (Star Wars), Protective Anakin Skywalker, Psychological Torture, Psychosis, Sleep Deprivation, Torture, Whump, Zigoola Reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:28:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29603862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellowkatey/pseuds/hellowkatey
Summary: Obi-Wan deals with the torturous effects of a very long time without sleep.[Febuwhump day 19: sleep deprivation]
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138259
Comments: 2
Kudos: 53





	Eyes Wide Shut

Panic rises in his throat as he stares at the shadows that creep up the wall. Obi-Wan flinches at flashes of light and dark, secretly hoping that they are some sort of hallucination. 

Hallucinations would mean he would have an excuse to feel like the world is unraveling. Maybe the lack of sleep is finally clouding his mind enough for him to see what isn't there, or worse, a glimpse into what is beyond. He feels close enough to death to touch it, so why shouldn't he see it too? 

He needs to rest. Shut his eyes and let his jail cell fade into darkness. But the analog clock hasn't moved in what feels like hours, but he knows it's only been seconds. In the rare moments when his captors aren't blaring horrible sounds that blew out his eardrums days ago, he still seems to be able to hear the damned clock. _Tick, tick_ , ticking continuously until it makes him forget how many _tick_ _tick's_ he's counted and the _tick tick tick_ longer hand is pointing at a new number. He doesn't remember that much time passing _(tick tick tick tick),_ but such is life in captivity. Periods that feel long are actually a blink or two, and moments that he thinks he's finally found control again turn out to only be an illusion. 

He lies on his side, knees tucked into his chest. Wiping away tears he doesn't remember shedding, he pretends he isn't alone. He has never told anyone, but some nights, he finds no sleep unless he imagines imaginary arms encompassing his body. A certain someone that makes his chest ache when he thinks about them too much tucked against his side and acting as his valiant protector from the horrors of the night. It's been a long time since he last shared a bed. As much as he knows he doesn't need it, he _wants_ it because for once it would be nice to feel an ounce of comfort. 

Because laying on the freezing, hard ground for any longer than a few minutes makes his body go numb. And even if he manages to muster enough strength to manifest the ghost of warm arms wrapping around his torso and a chin nestling into the crook of his neck, it fades before he has a chance to pretend he's anywhere else but locked in this prison. 

He thinks he sees a flash of bright blue, or maybe green, and for a moment he thinks he's saved. But no, his mind has seemingly decided that his current torturers aren't doing a well enough job, so it dangled _hope_ in front of his face for good measure. It's a trick of the mind. Another convincing piece of evidence that his heart pounding against his chest cavity and the pressure building in his veins aren't the only things manifesting in his sleeplessness.

Hallucinations would mean maybe he's finally cracking. Finally breaking under the pressure as many before have hoped to do to him. Obi-Wan has been through worse feats-- more pain, more bodily harm, but somehow this is a new circle of hell. Worse than a couple of days with no shut-eye. At least then he has battles or missions or other people to distract him from the exhaustion in his bones. But this... this is like a piece of Zigoola resurfacing from its hiding space in the depths of his mind. 

(Sometimes if he's quiet enough he can hear the prayerful chant _die Jedi, die Jedi die._ Interestingly enough, he can't hear it now. Only the _tick_ of the clock.)

Hallucinations would mean the lines between reality and whatever the hell else there is would blur completely.

Strangely, the prospect of such an existence is becoming more and more appealing.

Maybe in this augmented reality, he could finally find peace. For himself. For the galaxy. Never in his life has he wished so earnestly for a moment of quiet and stillness. Everything seems to be going wrong. The tides are turning and as much as the Republic likes to spout off about how they're the ones to come out on top, Obi-Wan has a feeling they're going to be the ones swept under the tidal wave.

(He has no evidence for this except for a lifetime of being told to trust his feelings.)

So how do you tell that to millions of soldiers created for the sole purpose of war? Or to the Jedi he fights alongside? The padawans who had to grow up too fast, and the Masters who have lost everyone in their lineage? Perhaps they're thinking it too-- he isn't so vain to assume he is the only one who cannot stand the sight of the Holonet anymore because none of it lines up with what actually happens on those battlefields. Or that he sees the way the civilians cower from both the Separatists and the Republic. Likewise, how they air their disdain with equal prejudice. They have to see it, right? The foundation crumbling beneath their feet? The chasm they walk a very thin tightrope across? 

If he's lucky, all of this has been one big dream. One big escape from reality and he will wake up in the Jedi Temple with the smell of Qui-Gon's favorite tea brewing and a padawan braid hanging from behind his ear. Because Obi-Wan is pretty sure the last time the galaxy had some semblance of normalcy was before he was forced to cut Maul in half. 

He stares at the shadows that claw across the ceiling, menacing and vile as they draw in the last drops of light. If the faces he sees staring back at him are only a hallucination, he will be satisfied. Because facing them for real is a feat he isn't ready for, so he closes his eyes as though that will keep the ghosts from following him. 

_And that's the problem with dreams_ , he thinks, _I yield control to the wills of my mind, and I have no confidence it will be any less horrifying than the reality I currently live._

But the moment ends with what sounds like the scream of a dying krayt dragon being blasted into the room from all directions, and Obi-Wan jumps to his knees in surprise before toppling over once again. He covers his ears as though that will keep out the noise or the vibrations that shake every cell of his existence, curling back into the ball he just had himself in. If he separates from himself enough, goes to another place where the gray walls become mere blurs and the Force acts as static, the screaming of the krayt dragon becomes nothing but background noise. Enough to ignore the pain as the scars in his ears tear open and blood drips down his collar. Enough to hope that the next noise they play might be slightly more pleasant. 

Maybe if they play one loud enough, he will go deaf completely, and then Obi-Wan will find some peace. 

The cell is fourteen of his foot length across, and fourteen wide. He hasn't yet measured, but he suspects they're fourteen tall as well. Made entirely of reinforced durasteel with no clear door, he suspects they built the prison around him. 

For the thousandth time since he awoke here, he screams into the Force: _why?_

On the third day, he received an answer: _why not?_

For some reason, this doesn't surprise him. 

He sees the face of Qui-Gon, stoic yet kind-eyed. For a moment at least, and then his expression changes to wide eyes and deathly pale complexion.

" _Promise me,"_ he says. Obi-Wan doesn't need to hear the rest to know what he's promising. It's been a staple of his nightmares for years.

" _Promise me,"_ Satine says as he leaves his master lying on the ground. He looks up in horror. 

"Promise what?" 

" _Promise me you will move on."_

He swallows hard, reaching out for her slender face and bright eyes. "Move on from what, my darling?" But as he tries to cradle her cheek and feel her soft skin against his hand, she vanishes into thin air. "Move on from what?" he whispers. 

And he is alone again. 

If he really is seeing lightsabers floating through space and ghosts of people that he held in his arms as they passed and hearing the voices of the dark side lingering somewhere in the nearby shadows, then maybe this is his final spiral. He isn't even sure if anyone has noticed he's even _gone_ yet. The worst part is he has no idea what the purpose of all of this. 

_Why?_

They haven't asked him any questions, haven't tried to take anything from him. Just put him in this cell and decided to keep him awake. 

_Why not?_

Sleep was never a natural state for Obi-Wan, but five days without a moment of unconsciousness is enough to drive anyone mad. 

_There is no end, there is only the Force._ He reminds himself of this as he presses his fingers against the quickened pulse against his neck at the tempo of an upbeat cantina band. He's past the point of caring about the cold water they spray on him or the racket they blast through the speakers or the things that may or may not be real. _Let them. I welcome it, now._

But a part of him still screams at him to fight. Oh, how he wants to silence the bugger, but it only makes another part of him speak up to remember his training and what he stands for. _I've withstood worse,_ his mind reminds him. And yes, he has. But his life has been a continuous pursuit of one-upping his last mission injury or torture regiment and _stars Obi-Wan is so tired._

_What about Anakin?_

Obi-Wan lets out a shaky breath.

_Promise me, Obi-Wan..._

Not even the voice of Qui-Gon comforts him anymore, and he buries his face in his hands. 

It isn't even the hallucinations or the torture anymore. What is really wrong is that the galaxy is crumbling and the Force is on fire and he's _choking_ on the smoke. Limbs pinned down by the screaming that's he's okay. _I don't need help_. Which is such a _fucking lie_ because he can feel the life draining as quickly as time feels like it's passing. He can feel that darkness is coming and coming quickly. There is no way to stop it. No way to slow it. Like waiting for the whistle tone to drone out his next attempt to nap, all he can do is watch it as it arrives. 

_Tick. Tick. Tick._

But when he looks, the clock hand hasn't moved yet, and a part of him is happy another hour hasn't passed. And a part of him dreads the idea that maybe he'll be stuck in this moment forever.

* * *

Anakin stands among a room full of dismembered bodies, his chest heaving with residual adrenaline from the fight. He wields not only his own weapon but his former Master's. All that was left behind when he disappeared. The clone troopers pour in moments later, unsurprised by the carnage. Anakin wastes no time in taking the two weapons and plunging them into the durasteel wall of the suspended prison. 

He forms a circle large enough for two people to fit through, and he jumps into the tiny cell. The first thing that hits him is _the smell_. It's not of death, but of the moments before. They've arrived just in time it seems. 

"Obi-Wan?" he says gently as his gaze falls on a crumbled figure tucked in the corner. His former master looks horrendous, dirty and bloody and deathly pale. When Anakin says his name his eyes raise slowly, and he is shocked to see the wild look in them.

"Anakin?" he rasps, his voice sounding raw. From the red rims around his eyes and the puffiness of his cheeks, it's obvious he's been crying. "No... it can't be." he whispers, and rolls into himself, turning toward the wall. Anakin is stunned. _What the hell did they do to you, Master?_

"No, Obi-Wan, it's really me," he says, kneeling down next to him and placing a hand on his wrist. When he touches his skin, Obi-Wan jumps as though he's seen a ghost. He looks at Anakin with wide eyes and mouth agape. 

"Anakin?" he repeats, grabbing his hand and then his wrist and feeling the material of his tunic. "Anakin!" Before he can react, Obi-Wan has thrown himself into his arms. Anakin ignores the stench and hugs him tightly, relief washing through him to be near his former master again. 

"I've got you, Master. I've got you." 

Obi-Wan's head rests on his shoulder, holding the embrace long enough Anakin's body starts to cramp. When he pulls back, the Jedi Master's head bobs back, lightly snoring. 

"Obi-Wan did you... did you fall asleep?"

"Sir," Rex's voice rings out as Anakin gently lays his master on his back until they can get a stretcher in here. 

"What is it?" 

Rex's helmet is off, and he looks at him with serious eyes. "They've been keeping him awake." 

"The whole time?" 

"I only skimmed through the footage but..." 

Anakin looks back at him, sleeping soundly-- probably for the first time in 120 hours. His knuckles go white as he grips the hilt of his lightsaber. 

"Have medical take him in. And by no means wake him up." 

Rex nods and walks out of the doorway Anakin cut to call for Kix. Anakin stands from the ground, looking around the tiny cell. The only thing that stands out is a clock hanging on the wall, the old kind that they don't really make anymore. The kind with the hands. The ticking is obnoxiously loud, echoing off the unpadded walls of the cell. 

He takes Obi-Wan's saber, ignites it, and swiftly slices the clock in half. It falls, but he catches it with the Force before it hits the ground. 

The cell goes quiet, except for the quiet snores of Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I actually started writing this at 3am which felt appropriate, and I opened it back up the next morning and half of it was basically incoherent, and I decided hey, for authenticity let's run with this rambling style. 
> 
> Come say hi on Tumblr @hellowkatey ! 
> 
> The title is a reference to Sleepwalking pt. 1 (Acoustic) by Alvarez Kings. Great song, really sounds like what being (minorly) sleep-deprived feels like.


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